


Holly

by aderyn_merch



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 16:16:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn_merch/pseuds/aderyn_merch
Summary: Christmas is a time for jolly and Holly and other things that end in 'olly'. So I had to do this. Also, the first Artemis Fowl book takes place around Christmas time, ergo it is a Christmas story. This is a hill I am willing to die on.





	Holly

Artemis Fowl shrugged on a coat and stepped out the back door. There was a small amount of snow covering the back steps, but it was a gray slushy layer, not at all pleasing to look at.   
So much for a picturesque Irish Christmas, he thought as water started seeping through his loafers. Still, the full moon was huge on the horizon, and that was all that mattered.   
It was quiet on this side of the door. Beckett and Myles had commandeered the living room hours ago, trying to beat the latest video game Artemis had programmed for them. The entire house had filled with background music and the sound of cinematic fights. Somehow the twins still had boundless energy despite being up at seven pounding on his door.   
Well, Beckett had been bursting through his door. Myles had been drinking tea in the kitchen and complaining to Juliet about his brother’s immaturity. Nobody was fooled.   
Artemis shook his head and tried to focus on the sky. There wouldn’t be much just—there! A small patch of glimmering air. He took his hands out of his pockets.   
Holly didn’t drop her shields until she was less than a meter away. She shut off her wings and freefell the last few centimeters into the hug.   
“Hello, Major Short.” Artemis set his best friend down. “And Merry Christmas.”  
Holly was grinning hugely as she took off her helmet. “You’re taller! That’s not fair.”   
“Yes, and your hair is longer,” Artemis observed. Truthfully though, not much about Holly had changed. Her mismatched eyes were as sharp as ever. Holly blew a loose strand of auburn hair out of her eyes.   
“Yes, and this helmet’s mussing it up.”  
“Foaly hasn’t invented one that combs and shampoos you hair yet?”   
“For some reason that isn’t top priority.” Holly gazed down at her helmet and sighed. “Besides, I don’t often get to wear one of these anymore.”   
Artemis simply nodded. This was the first time Holly had been above ground in over a year. Ever since her promotion, she’d been stuck down below. Even now the only reason she was on the surface was to refill her magic supply.   
“I take it Trouble is still keeping you as far from the action as possible?” Artemis asked, though he’d already discussed this extensively while messaging Foaly.  
Holly looked up at him sharply. “I honestly can’t tell if it’s because N°1 told him I needed a year or two to recover physically from magic healings, or if he’s just trying to keep me out of the headlines.”  
“I believe it’s all the same reason to him.”  
Holly snorted.  
“That’s not what I meant.” Artemis backtracked quickly, lying as smoothly as ever. “Think, Holly. You’re one of the best officers he will ever have. You have unmatched experience and skills. It makes perfect tactical sense to try and keep you healthy and in reserve for the next time things get difficult.”  
“I’m not going to get hurt on a typical recon.”  
Artemis didn’t have to say anything; he simply looked skeptical.   
“Oh, stop it.” Holly smiled, but there was something sad about it. “I only have to worry about one Mudman, and his fairy kidnapping days are long over.”  
Something about always needing more gold inched towards Artemis’ vocal cords, but never quite got there. He couldn’t hide from Holly. She was too close to Foaly, and Foaly had cameras on houseflies.  
“Are you feeling any better?” Holly asked quietly.  
“I—I’m making progress.” Artemis said slowly, “I know, well to be accurate, I think I know what it is—which neurotransmitters are out of balance and which memory pathways are still a bit, weak, but I’m not quite there yet.”  
Not quite there yet. It had been two years, and he had made more progress in the first week than the last 23 months. His intelligence was there, he’d tested it again and again, and death hadn’t dropped his IQ a point. But his memories were hazy, and twisted in places. He placed names with the wrong faces, or ordered events backwards, or started a conversation in English, continued it in Chinese, and ended it in Russian without noticing a thing.  
But that wasn’t the worst of it.   
“But are you still…” Holly fumbled for the words.  
Waking at one in the morning and scrambling to turn on the lights? Not sleeping at all? Working, or running, or working myself senseless just to feel something? Actually learning to throw a punch simply for the pain in my knuckles? Artemis curled his battered hands in his pockets. “Yes,” he said softly. It had been two years. Sometimes he still through he was dead. Sometimes he still had to convince himself he was alive.   
Holly reached up and pulled Artemis’ hand out of his pocket. She looked at the torn knuckles and tiny scalpel cuts on the finger tips that made it hurt to play the piano. Exhaling, she let three tiny blue sparks scurry over the wounds and underneath the cuff of Artemis’ jacket.   
“I can ask N°1—“  
“No. If I’m going to fix myself, I have to fix myself.” Artemis didn’t pull his hand away, he didn’t trust himself. “And I will. I think I can synthesize the cure, and come up with a therapy plan before the end of the week.”  
“And it’ll work?”  
“It has to.” Because nothing else had. So far only pain had been enough to conquer lesser fears. But that had to stop. It should never have started, and Artemis honestly could not remember how it had. But then, he was never this lucid when he gave in.  
Holly held his hand, and looked up at him. “Promise me,” it wasn’t a plea, it was a command, “that if it doesn’t, you’ll let me know.”  
“Yes.”  
Holly nodded, dropped Artemis’ hand and scuffed one foot through the snow, considering something. “You never thought it would work, did you? The clone?” She asked.  
“The odds were good that it would never have needed to.”   
“That wasn’t what I asked, Mud boy. The odds were bad and you knew it.”  
Artemis shoved his hands back into his pockets. “Why do you assume that?”  
“Because you said goodbye.” Holly stared out into the night. “A complete and total goodbye. It wasn’t some ploy to get your DNA through security.”  
Artemis exhaled, watching his breath condense. Holly looked back up at him, and her blue eye caught the moonlight. “No. It wasn’t,” he said.   
The corners of Holly’s mouth lifted slightly. “You really are soft and sentimental, aren’t you?”  
“I prefer calculating and intelligent.”  
Something within Holly’s helmet buzzed. “D’arvit.” She muttered, “I can’t stay much longer. Foaly’s keeping this off record, but it won’t be long before Trouble gets suspicious. Is Butler here?”  
“Yes, should I go and get him?”  
“No,” Holly put her helmet back on, but kept the visor up. “Just, tell him I miss him, okay?”  
“I will.”  
Holly started her wings and hovered at eye height. “And Arty?” She said, “you will get better. Remember that. You’re strong enough and intelligent enough. And you’ve got plenty of people to back you up if you can’t do it on your own. Foaly’s already started brainstorming.”   
“I know.”   
Holly stalled her wings for a good-bye hug. “Merry Christmas, Mud boy.”  
“Merry Christmas, Holly.”   
With a parting smile, Holly shielded and disappeared into the night. Fifteen minutes later, Butler found Artemis still standing on the back steps. The old body guard said nothing. There was little Butler could do to protect Artemis from himself, but staying by his side was something.   
Artemis took his hands out of his pockets and looked at the absence of scabs and bruises. “Holly says hello,” he said quietly. “And Merry Christmas.”


End file.
